Stanley wanted to object strongly, but as he could not immediately think how to put it, he contented himself with a grunt, and the motion was carried. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. A wrathful God was watching him. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night.
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